


Cherry Coke

by Chocolatpen



Series: salute to my terrible love life [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Coming of Age, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Rare Pairings, Religious Discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 01:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7555198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatpen/pseuds/Chocolatpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinner is filled with silence and suffocation, and his father’s pager beeping incessantly. Koushi’s head feels like it’s being filled with helium – light and bursting at the seams.</p>
<p>He walks out.</p>
<p>A coming-of-age story set in 1980’s America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Coke

**Author's Note:**

> yes you read that right, 2/3rds of this thing is based off of my own experience. of course, this story works in a homophobia-free au, and there is a small mention of religious doubt that i hope doesn't offend anyone.
> 
> hope you guys enjoy this! please do leave a comment and/or kudos if you do, and subscribe to this series if you're interested in more :)

 

“I like it.”

 

Koushi relaxes as long, graceful fingers run through his hair. An undercut. Who would’ve thought?

 

“It’s alright,” Koushi shrugs, or as much as he can while lying in bed.

 

“I really do,” Tooru says, and tightens the hold around him. Koushi’s shoulder bumps against his chest. Burying his nose into silver locks, the brown-haired boy inhales deep and long. “You smell good.”

 

Koushi turns to face his boyfriend, tracing a finger across Tooru’s bare torso.

 

They peer at each other; Tooru through hooded lids and Koushi through fluttering eyelashes. The moment stetches too long, too thin, so Koushi tilts his face upwards and presses his lips against Tooru’s.

 

…

 

Koushi is sixteen when he grows into his body, and he’s sixteen when Oikawa Tooru transfers into his school.

 

“Hey.” Tooru says, sliding up to where Koushi is leaning against the doorframe. The pounding music is less overwhelming inside the house. “Oikawa Tooru. You live down the road from me.”

 

“Sugawara Koushi.” Koushi lifts an eyebrow and swirls the mug in his hand. It’s supposed to be juice, or something, but the tangy bite of alcohol isn’t subtle.

 

Tooru isn’t subtle either.

 

“Let’s hang out sometime,” Tooru continues. His tongue darts out to swipe against his lip, as though he’s not used to the lack of interest.

 

Koushi hums, eyes flickering over to where Morisuke and Keiji are talking over the punch bowl, and then to Tooru’s perfect brown hair and perfect brown eyes.

 

He shrugs. “Sure.”

 

…

 

Tooru shows Koushi that he’s not just the typical boy-next-door, and they spend more afternoons over at Tooru’s than apart.

 

“Calculus,” Tooru sighs, “Calculus will be the death of me.”

 

Koushi slips a leg off the bed and wriggles his toes in Tooru’s face.

 

The brown-haired boy wrinkles his nose and wraps an elegant hand around Koushi’s ankle. With a little tug, Koushi slips right off the bed and into his boyfriend’s lap.

 

Koushi beams, and Tooru groans.

 

“I was wrong,” Tooru sighs, silver strands slipping through his fingers. He leans in so close their noses are touching. “ _You’ll_ be the death of me.”

 

…

 

“It kinda looks like me.” Koushi wonders out loud, holding teddy bear skin out in front of him.

 

“Oh yeah, it totally does.” Tooru agrees, eyeing the grey-furred one they’d picked out together. He plucks it out of Koushi’s grasp and hands it over to the girl at the stuffing machine.

 

“Wait,” Koushi frowns. “Aren’t we missing something?”

 

Tooru winks, and Koushi rolls his eyes.

 

“Alright, press its chest.” With the stuffing done, they’d decided to forgo choosing any overpriced clothes for the already hilariously expensive build-a-bear.

 

Koushi shoots an apprehensive look at his boyfriend, but does what he’s told anyway.

 

The bear shakes in the distinctive pattern of a heartbeat, and Koushi encases Tooru in a tight hug.

 

…

 

“Let’s break up.”

 

The call comes early autumn, when the leaves are only barely brown. Hardly red or yellow.

 

Koushi twirls the telephone cord around his pointer finger. “Okay.”

 

“ _What_?” Tooru’s voice is scratchy over the phone, as it always is. His voice breaks.

 

“Okay.” Koushi repeats. Maybe the connection over at Tooru’s is bad, today.

 

There is silence for a long time.

 

“Okay.” Tooru’s voice sounds different, but Koushi can imagine him nodding; leant casually against the wall because the Oikawas’ landline is secured against the wall.

 

He doesn’t say anything else, so Koushi hangs up first.

 

…

 

Tooru is angry at him, and there’s something numb inside Koushi’s chest.

 

Koushi doesn’t know why.

 

Neither of them were ever serious about being together, and it had been fun while it lasted.

 

So… Why?

 

…

 

Tooru starts dating a girl a week after they break up, and Koushi wonders if they’d already been talking even before Tooru said anything.

 

…

 

Coming home after school instead of going to the Oikawas’ is a little odd at first, but Koushi gets used to it.

 

He tosses his bag onto the chair at his desk and collapses onto his bed; running fingers through worn grey fur.

 

Staring at the ceiling becomes boring after awhile, so he turns over and stares at the wall instead.

 

…

 

“I signed us up for church camp.” Morisuke declares, slipping a flyer into Koushi’s hand. “Keiji’s going away with his family, so it’ll just be us.”

 

“What.” Koushi frowns a little, looking over the details. He slams the locker door shut. “I’m not-”

 

“I know.” Morisuke says, the little silver cross on his neck sparkling under the flourescent light.

 

They stare at each other for awhile, Morisuke’s gaze expecting, and then Koushi relents. “Okay, fine.”

 

…

 

Church camp is boring.

 

All everyone does is talk about God, and Koushi feels out of place.

 

Morisuke does seem to be enjoying himself, though, singing admittedly catchy songs along to the strum of a guitar, so Koushi’s not unhappy.

 

“Oh.” Koushi says, stepping out of the hall for space but realising that he’s not alone.

 

The blonde-haired boy looks up from where he’s lighting a joint, inhales, then blows out a puff of smoke. “It’s fine. Wanted to get away from the hippies?”

 

Koushi nods, taking a seat on the floor next to the other boy. “It’s kind of… overwhelming.”

 

“Tell me about it.” The boy scoffs, exhaling white. He eyes Koushi a little critically, tapping ashes onto the floor. “Terushima Yuji. You?”

 

“Sugawara Koushi.” Koushi says, leaning his head on the wall. “Nice jacket.”

 

…

 

Yuji and his leather jacket become a frequent occurance in Koushi’s life.

 

…

 

“This sucks.” Koushi sighs, resting his cheek against the table. He scrunches his nose when he realises that it smells like fries and ketchup.

 

Beside him, Yuji hums distractedly. His tongue is sticking out of his mouth in concentration, pencil sketching delicate lines onto paper.

 

Koushi opts to sulk more instead of returning to his textbook.

 

“Patience, young one,” The faux blonde grins, passing over a beautifully sketched diagram of the human eye to complete Koushi’s biology notes.

 

“Thanks!” Koushi beams. Yuji is talented both on the court and on paper. And then he frowns. “What do you mean young one? I’m older than you!”

 

Yuji lets out a laugh and drowns a nugget in curry sauce.

 

…

 

A week later, Koushi receives a sketch of gentle eyes and a beauty mark.

 

…

 

“You should stay away from him,” Morisuke advises, mouth downturned. “He’s not good for you.”

 

Koushi thinks of late nights, roaming hands, warm jackets and cigarette smoke.

 

“He’s a bad influence.” Morisuke insists, eyeing the darkness under Koushi’s eyes and the bruises on his neck. “Seriously, Koushi.”

 

Koushi sighs, resting his cheek in his palm. “It’s fine, you don’t need to worry.”

 

“We have exams this year.” Morisuke tries again, and Koushi tunes him out.

 

…

 

“What happened?”

 

The next time they meet, there are new red lines marking up Yuji’s left wrist.

 

“Got angry.” Yuji shrugs, watching Koushi’s fingers dance around the wounds. “It’s nothing.”

 

Koushi can feel the sides of his mouth turning downwards.

 

It’s not nothing. He wants to say that _it’s not nothing_.

 

But he can’t. Not with the red lines carved into his hips and the skin under his wristbands. He’d be a hypocrite.

 

“I’m sorry.” Koushi says sincerely, and Yuji’s arm snakes around his waist.

 

…

 

“Uh, hey, Kou,” Yuji sounds sheepish and more than a little high. Over the telephone, his voice is little distorted. “Could you… get me from the police station?”

 

Koushi honestly isn’t surprised.

 

…

 

Koushi’s first impression of Sawamura Daichi is that he’s not especially tall, but what he lacks in height he makes up for in intimidation.

 

The second thought he has is damn, this policeman is fine.

 

“Grafitti,” Daichi’s mouth presses together into a tight line. He looks from his file to Koushi, and his eyes go down and back up again. “And smoking unliscenced marijuana. His parents have posted the bail, but I understand that they’re not able to make it. How are you related Terushima?”

 

“Uh.” Koushi says, intelligibly. “We’re… friends.”

 

Daichi’s eyebrows shoot upwards, and he nods slowly. “Right.”

 

…

 

Yuji winds his arms around Koushi’s waist and brushes his chin against his ear. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

 

…

 

“So…” Morisuke fiddles with the cross on his necklace. “We’re going out.”

 

Beside him, Yuji grins brightly and loops an arm around the smaller blonde’s shoulder.

 

Out of his peripheral, Koushi can see Keiji turning to look at him.

 

Koushi smiles. “That’s great.”

 

…

 

Dinner is filled with silence and suffocation, and his father’s pager beeping incessantly. Koushi’s head feels like it’s being filled with helium – light and bursting at the seams.

 

He walks out.

 

…

 

“You’re… Sugawara Koushi.”

 

Koushi raises a brow at the man in the front seat of the police cruiser. It came out of nowhere, coasting beside him. His brain supplies him a name.

 

“Officer.” Koushi nods in greeting, his mind hazy and his gaze unfocused.

 

Daichi frowns, a little worriedly. “You’re not on anything now, are you?”

 

Koushi raises a challenging eyebrow and shrugs.

 

…

 

“How old are you?” Daichi asks, once they’re safe in his small, ratty apartment.

 

_Seventeen_. “Eighteen.” Koushi says, running a hand over the counter top. Daichi’s policeman badge rests temptingly close to his arm.

 

Two glass bottles are placed on the table. Cherry Cola and a beer.

 

Koushi reaches for the beer, and Daichi doesn’t stop him – just looks on in amusement.

 

He presses the bottle against his lips and smiles.

 

…

 

“You’re too young.” Daichi says, even while his hands are running down Koushi’s sides and tugging at the waistband of his pants. “This is wrong.”

 

Koushi disagrees.

 

But he has a sneaking feeling Daichi doesn’t care that much either.

 

…

 

Koushi loiters around the parking lot outside the police station, hands in his pockets. Cold wind blows through the rips in his jeans and into the sides of his muscle tank.

 

A bunch of policemen step out of a cruiser, donuts in hand, and they exchange looks before approaching him.

 

“What’re you doing here, kid?” One of them asks, obviously judging a book by its cover. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

 

Koushi’s eyes narrow, but another voice calls out before he can say anything.

 

“He’s with me, boys,” Daichi says casually. He drapes a jacket over Koushi’s shoulders, and the smell of fresh coffee wafts up his nose.

 

Koushi feels warmer than he’s been in a long time.

 

…

 

Koushi flips open a packet of smokes and pulls out a joint, hands shaking slightly.

 

“Didn’t know you smoked.” Daichi raises his head against his hand and turns over in bed to face him.

 

“You don’t hang out with Yuji and not pick up something.” Koushi replies nonchantly, inhaling mint and nicotine.

 

In one smooth motion, Daichi plucks the joint out from between Koushi’s fingers and stubs it.

 

Koushi knows he looks scandalized, but Daichi just shrugs. “You don’t hang out with me without learning some things.”

 

Something like happiness bubbles in his gut.

 

…

 

A month later, Daichi tells Koushi to dress nicely so that they can go for dinner.

 

It’s a pretty fancy place, and Koushi feels slightly out of place.

 

“I’m just gonna say it,” Daichi breathes, nervously wringing his hands on top of his empty dessert plate. “I don’t think we should do this anymore – the hook ups, I mean.”

 

“Oh.” Koushi says, fingers loosening around his spoon. “Was this a thank you, but good bye? I would have ordered more if it is.”

 

“No, no, no,” Daichi flusters, and Koushi thinks that it’s kind of amusing how nervous this big, bad, scary cop is. “This _is_ a kind of thank you, but it’s not a goodbye. Far from it.”

 

Daichi takes a deep breath, and then focuses his eyes on Koushi. “Let’s go out, Koushi. For real. For movies and dinners and dates. For more than what we had.”

 

Koushi’s mind stutters to a stop.

 

And then he nods, digging his spoon into chocolate ice cream.

 

…

 

Koushi is seventeen – _eighteen_ – when he learns how to love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

{End}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
